


Jimmy Fallon Survived the Snap of 2018

by addie_cakes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Character Death, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addie_cakes/pseuds/addie_cakes
Summary: They start calling it the Snap, and the name sounds so natural and so mundanely commonplace, like a tornado or a cold spell that strikes New York in April. —"My grandma said that both her parents disappeared in the Snap of 2018”—“Yeah, well, my grandma did disappear in the Snap.”It sounds so natural, but it’s anything but.(Tony does and doesn't deal with the aftermath of Thanos' attack).





	Jimmy Fallon Survived the Snap of 2018

They start calling it the Snap, and the name sounds so natural and so mundanely commonplace, like a tornado or a cold spell that strikes New York in April. —" _My grandma said that both her parents disappeared in the Snap of 2018”_ — _“Yeah, well, my grandma_ did _disappear in the Snap.”_

It sounds so natural, but it’s anything but.

People start asking who survived the actual event, and Tony somehow has to find the courage to say that not only did he contribute to the Snap itself, but he had the audacity to survive it. He doesn’t, so he just stays quiet, and the only people who know are all the people, because televisions exist, and everyone knows what Tony Stark looks like.

Tony gives Wong the Time Stone and an apology, and Wong only accepts the first thing. He’s still just a wizard in Tony’s tired eyes, but the man doesn’t seem at all concerned with what Tony thinks of him. In fact, he’s already beginning to work, as if he’s the only person who survived Thanos’ initial culling (is there a better word for it? It sounds a little _Hunger Games_ , but that’s fine) who doesn’t just want to hide away with his tail tucked between his legs.

No, he does that odd hand-spinning-thing that Strange does—did—and Tony frowns, taking a step back. He still doesn’t understand this stuff, and he doubts he ever will. He doesn’t want to. The first time Wong stops moving, Tony sees nothing. But the other man looks satisfied, so of course Tony, who will never be content staying silent, asks what’s going on.

“Defying time,” Wong answers, and Tony nods. Of course he is.

“Alright, Elphaba, and what does that mean?” Tony asks, and it occurs to him that anything he does anymore is ask questions. He used to think he knew everything. Funny, how years of trauma will change that in even the cockiest of men.

“I’ve gathered their souls.” Wong’s a man of short answers, and it might have been a charming little tidbit of his dynamic personality if Tony doesn’t currently want to just tear his hair out and start screaming (something he’s never done before but is now open to trying, if it’ll help). “From the Soul Stone. That’s where they were trapped.”

Tony nods. He sees Bruce out of the corner of his eye, and he’s grateful. There is one man on this entire planet that seems to be able to speak Tony’s language of sarcasm and self-deprecation and science fluently, and it’s Banner. Banner, who’s been an absentee for two years, who left behind a woman most doctors could only dream of impressing, let alone scorning, and who seems to be the only person in Tony’s inner-circle who knows the appropriate times to stop talking.

“And you can un-trap them?” Release them, he tells himself. It’s a much better word. The world’s spinning, though, and has been since Titan, so Tony’s honestly just impressed with himself that he’s actually still standing. “Where do we put them—in jars? Do we shake them light glow-sticks to know they’re there?” How _does_ one go about cracking a soul to see if it lit up?

Bruce’s perplexed expression looks like a Kermit the Frog meme, and Tony knows he’s said something insensitive.

Wong gives him an unimpressed look. “I can bring the souls back from a point right after they were disintegrated, but I can only bring the bodies back from a moment before then. There’ll be...a gap in their times, but it’s what I can do.” It’s all he can do, that goes unspoken.

“Doesn’t that count as—as disrupting the universe?” Bruce asks. “Isn’t there always a consequence for that stuff? I feel like there’s always a consequence for that stuff…”

_He’s not wrong_ , Tony thinks. From their experience, no one’s ever _disrupted_ anything without facing consequences.

But Wong shakes his head. “We face more consequences by losing half the population. This world can’t survive with that few people, not anymore. And they must have all the knowledge we have, or we risk panic.”

“Which is why they need to know what happened,” Tony says, and Wong doesn’t nod, but Tony still knows he’s right. It’s a good feeling, one that he hasn’t felt in a while, that he’s caught onto something beyond himself rather quickly. Bruce doesn’t seem to know what to think, but he doesn’t argue, either. He’s not in that mindset.

Certain that he blacked out for a few more moments, Tony blinks, and he sees too many bodies, just lying there, and had they not started moving soon after, gasping back to life, the man knows he would have lost his mind, right then and there.

“...what about the ones on Titan?” he asks quickly.

“I brought them back here. It’s more disruptive, but Strange won’t mind.”

Oh, right. Strange. And those Guardians. And Peter.

“And the ones in Wakanda?” Bruce adds, fidgeting.

“The Wakandans stay in Wakanda, but the Avengers are here. They need to be here.”

Tony scans the crowd of people, and he feels a sudden relief when he sees familiar...everyone. He sees King T’Challa, who is alert in an instant, only relaxing when, immediately upon his awakening, Okoye finds him and makes her presence known. She’s a good protector, because she won’t let him be alone for a moment. Unconsciously, Tony’s lips twitch upward in a sort-of smile.

Steve hugs Bucky, but not for long. The brevity of the touch is surprising, and perhaps even more surprising for Bucky, who just blinks and lets his hands follow after Steve, like he’s trying to hold onto him, trying to stop him from moving and pulling himself too wire-thin, but it’s Steve, and he’s Captain America, so—

It’s a fruitless endeavor.

When he sees Peter, he sticks his hand out and grabs the kid by the back of the neck, anchoring him. Peter’s eyes are wide, but they always are, because he’s always seeing something new. Maybe he’s more panicked than usual, but Tony’s keeping a firm grasp on him. He pulls out his phone and dials May’s number.

Hopefully she isn’t part of the reanimated souls. That’d kill Peter.

Again.

He’d be dead again.

Hm.

* * *

 

They all know that a press conference is fast-approaching, so the Avengers are all instructed to stay in the facility upstate. Tony’s got all the rooms outfitted like they should be, a little personalized for each member, and he’s now proud of himself that he thought to put monitors in every single room of the building. It’s invasive, and he knows it, but he’s got to keep his peace of mind somehow.

If he even has one.

Absentmindedly, Tony pulls up a few screens, eyes scanning what’s in front of him. Bruce, ever-the-genius-idiot, hasn’t asked Natasha to come back to his room, so he’s just trying to sleep off whatever he’s feeling. Since his return to earth, Bruce has Hulked out one (1) time, and it’s left him a semi-shaking mess, even hours afterwards. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want Natasha near him, and it makes sense, but he’s still an idiot.

Steve’s still moving, not even doing anything, just moving. He’s too much like Tony, or Tony’s too much like him, and they still haven’t talked. It’s embarrassing, how stubborn they both are, but it works for them, and Tony isn’t sure who’ll be the first of them to break and speak, but he knows it’s coming soon. They’re both stubborn, but they’re both also self-loathing determinists, so they’ll spite themselves to try to remedy a situation. Steve’s still barely talked to Bucky, though, so maybe Tony will have to reconsider his decisions.

Wanda’s only moved when asked to move, and she hasn’t spoken at all, and no one’s keen on making her. Tony’s heart surprisingly aches for her despite the fact that she’s screwed him over a couple times in their short acquaintanceship.

They have a body, and they have the Mind Stone, but that’s about it.

Tony switches screens, and he pauses at the sight of one room being inhabited by a raccoon, a tree-like creature who speaks only three words, Mantis, Drax (insert eye-roll), and not-smart Peter. They’re all obnoxiously close, and they’re all asleep, save for unintelligent Peter, who’s staring at the ceiling.

Tony thumbs at the screen to magnify the picture, and he now feels a little bad for what he’s thought about dumb Peter.

He’s crying. That’s sad.

He misses _where-who-why_ Gamora.

Well. They all miss someone.

There’s even a monitor for the bathroom, and Tony expects it to be empty, but it’s not. And now he feels a little irreverent, especially considering that the bathroom’s occupied by King T’Challa and his girlfriend/ambassador Nakia, who had been in New York when everything had happened.

It should have been a little sexy, at least, to see Nakia’s helping T’Challa bathe, but it isn’t, not even kind of. It’s actually sad, and everything’s sad now, Tony realizes.

The young woman has a light smile playing on her features as she speaks. She holds a rag in her hands, and she runs the cloth up her king’s arm, the movement unsteady and shaky as she lets the rag brush over his tired, still-strained muscles. He doesn’t notice, though, and he doesn’t notice that she’s focused only on his face rather than his entire, objectively-very-attractive and naked body.

Tony’s respectful enough to only close in on her face, which is close enough to T’Challa’s that he can see what they’re both saying and doing. T’Challa’s not doing anything, though.

“Close your eyes,” Nakia instructs gently, and she squeezes the cloth so that water washes down the man’s face.

He doesn’t.

Frowning, Nakia sighs and continues working. She’s methodical and careful, her touch feather-light, though Tony can’t actually feel it. But he gets it; she’s worried, and he knows why—

He doesn’t know too much about Wakanda, but he’s done all the research he can, and he knows that the supernatural, the afterlife—it’s all very important to the Wakandans, and especially to the royals. So if T’Challa was technically dead, which he was, if they’re all being honest and blunt with themselves, then T’Challa had found himself in a place his ancestors had never been before, had never been there to forge a path for him, and he had dragged half his people with him.

The king had been lost, and now that he was back, he was clearly hurting and confused. He had been somewhere in which he wasn’t supposed to be.

And he’s really not supposed to be here, either.

Nakia takes her king’s silence as permission to show her own weakness, and she rests her forehead against the side of the tub for just a few more minutes before she lifts her head again. She replaces the smile on her face and grabs for his other hand so that she can begin washing it. He’s still wearing his ring, and she lets her fingers glide over the medal.

_Come back to me_ , she thinks.

Oh, right. Tony can see thoughts now. Well, he’s sure he can, in a Vonnegut-ish sort of way, which means that no one can really argue with him, and if he’s confident enough then he’s right, and _poo-tee-weet?_ and all that.

So Nakia wants T’Challa back, and he’s not there yet.

That sounds about right.

Tony swipes the screen away and runs his hand over his face. God, he wants to sleep, but that’s probably not going to happen tonight.

* * *

 

The Guardians are going back to space, and they have a ship, and Nebula decides to go with them, but she doesn’t sit down, even though there’s an extra seat on their ship.

No one dares touch it.

And so they leave, with an extra member that can’t replace the old one, a completely shattered team that refuses to let go of each other, and a new mixtape.

* * *

 

As far as traumatic situations go, Bucky Barnes seems to adjust pretty well to that last one. According to him, he didn’t think it was nearly as bad as years of conditioning torture from Hydra. In fact, he bounces back probably the easiest of anyone. Tony doesn’t even hate him anymore. And it’s actually a little ironic, that they could all get along with each other, even if they’ve all done horrible, unspeakable things to each other.

Steve almost killed Tony, Tony almost killed Bucky, Bucky killed Tony’s parents (and tried to kill Steve and Natasha and Steve’s ex-girlfriend Sharon who’s now a dead name on his lips and Sam), Wanda’s messed with everyone’s minds, and apparently Clint and Natasha tried to kill each other once but didn’t.

So they forgive easily, is that so wrong?

What Bucky’s not adjusting well to is the fact that Steve won’t even look at him. Perfect Steve, with the perfectly clear pale skin and the perfectly white straight teeth and the perfectly blond hair and...wow, Steve is a little monochromatic, Tony realizes.

But he watches as Bucky takes it upon himself to make everyone breakfast, and he does a surprisingly good job of it. The eggs are tasty and actually seasoned, the bacon is a nice mix between crispy and fatty, and there’s toast (both buttered and non-, because Bucky has enough forethought to know that not everyone wants their toast buttered), and fruit, and he even brought out the cups of Yoplait yogurt.

Ten points for Bucky.

Tony doesn’t load his plate, and he seats himself at the bar, patting the spot next to him for Peter. Bruce almost looks surprised, but he knows that Tony can’t just say “I feel bad that there’s a seventeen year-old kid with no friends except me” right now, so he just sits on the other side of Tony.

Bruce can’t escape Natasha, though, and maybe Bucky should take some pointers, because she just hops up on the edge of the bar, sitting on the counter as she eats her toast.

Then again, why would someone want to actively escape Natasha Romanoff?

Bruce is, and always has been, a man of mysteries.

Thor sits down at the actual table (wow, what a loner), and he has two plates full of food, but he eats slower than usual. No one’s really talked to Thor since he’s gotten back from his space adventure, and only Steve had the actual gall to ask what happened to his L’oreal-worthy hair, but Thor’s also not made it easy for everyone to talk to him. He’s sad now, with wiser eyes and a new set of scars that only Bruce seems to know the origins of.

Again, Bruce is, and always has been, a man of mysteries.

Thor and Steve and Peter and Bucky should realistically eat at similar rates, Tony figures. But they don’t. Thor still eats the fastest, even when he’s eating slowly, but Peter’s not far behind. He’s a little more quiet, but Tony’s actually impressed with how well the kid’s adjusted to being dead and then not-dead. He admitted to needing some time away from his life, away from May and his friends, but altogether—it’s promising. Maybe he hasn’t completely screwed up Peter’s life like he has everyone else’s.

Like Pepper’s.

Tony tried calling her once, then twice, and he would have tried again, but she made a point of answering the phone and then hanging up, which meant that she was acknowledging him and was choosing not to respond.

And Tony’s a coward. And he knows it all too well.

Bucky sits down beside Steve, and the other man looks away, picking at his toast. He’s eating the slowest, even though Tony has seen him absolutely devour an entire rotisserie chicken at three in the morning (no questions asked) and nearly choke on a bone in the process.

So something’s eating at Cap. It’s always fun to try to psychoanalyze a repressed and depressed old man, Tony muses as he chews on a piece of bacon. He stands corrected—too flabby.

“Is this going to be a thing between us now?” Bucky asks, voice low yet firm.

Steve doesn’t move, but his fingers curl slightly. “I’m not doing this here, Buck.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re ever going to.”

Not that Tony would ever want Bucky to be upset (well...he does, but that’s only because he’s petty), but he’s pleasantly surprised to see that Bucky has more of an emotional range than fawning over Steve and shrinking. He can actually still feel frustration (and at Steve!), and the young-looking old man gets up and grabs his plate pointedly.

Shame that he’s not getting anything across, but oh, well.

It’s noble.

* * *

 

Tony and Bruce work tirelessly for one whole night, and it’s nothing out of the ordinary from what they’re getting accustomed to, but at least they’re doing something useful. Or they hope it’s useful. Might not be.

With the help of Princess Shuri, who is just a little mean but is mostly enjoyable, the three scientists manage to get the Mind Stone set back into place on Vision’s grayed-out corpse. _This is morbid_ , Tony thinks, but he keeps working, because he wants to make one person’s life a little easier, and if it’s Wanda, then that’s fine.

Since they’ve all gotten back together as a team, Tony has begun compiling a list of people to watch. It’s rather pointless, since they are all at-risk of depression and outbursts, but he needs to be proactive, anyway. And Wanda’s at the top of this list. She’s had a tendency to dislike herself since forever, but the loss of Vision at her own hands (and then at Thanos’, which—that’s rough) is too much for her, and she’s been sleeping mostly, and only eating a little and generally not even trying.

And even though Tony has never been Wanda’s biggest fan, nor has she been of him, he wants to see her better. They all need to be better.

Thor knocks on the door to the lab, and Bruce opens it, offering a small smile. “Hey, man, thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Man?” Tony quirks an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t really matter if Bruce has gotten a new best friend. At the end of the day, he and Tony still have more in common, so there.

Thor—beautiful and perhaps even more muscular than before, and Tony shakes his head because _he desperately needs sleep if he’s going to suddenly start thinking about Thor like that. Captain, sometimes. Not Thor_ —smiles tightly. “Of course. I helped to bring him to existence the first time. It’s possible I can help—””

“The operative word is ‘reanimate,’” Tony explains.

“—revive him.” Thor glances down at his hands. “Though I’ll have to do this now without Mjolnir.”

_Who’s worthy now?_ Tony wryly thinks, and then he feels bad. Thor’s apparently lost everything officially now, and he really didn’t deserve to lose the hammer. The engineer knows that Thor still has a few fellow Asgardians scattered across the realms, but he doesn’t feel like their king anymore, so he’s opted to pull a Simba and not return at all. No one can blame him. None of them feel very worthy of anything anymore.

Tony’s always toed the line between creator and Creator, but now he feels even more Creator-y than usual, especially when they’ve already made Vision once, and now they’ve brought him back. First of all, it’s about the coolest thing to see skin go from gray to burgundy, and second...Tony vaguely worries that they might have brought back something completely different. Hopefully not another Ultron, this time.

But it’s Vision, and he knows who he is, and he knows who Wanda is (Tony lets out a relieved sigh), and he now knows what it’s like to feel what all men will feel over the course of a good relationship.

The “oh, I’ve screwed the pooch and can’t find a free clinic” feeling.

It’s not a good one, but it’s very human, to be fair.

The three—Tony, Bruce, and Thor—poke their heads out of the lab and watch as Vision tentatively finds Wanda’s room, and they’re all a bit endeared to him when he lets out a nervous breath and looks up like he’s trying to steady himself. He knows he could die for the third time here. Wanda’s powerful, strong enough to hold Thanos back while she’s in the middle of killing her boyfriend.

If she so-chooses it, Vision will be a goner.

He knocks on the door, and it takes a few moments for Wanda to open it, and she looks pretty rough, honestly. But Vision doesn’t see that, because he’s dumbly in love with her, and she could look awful (like, very awful), and he won’t notice.

Watching Vision try to apologize, to convince Wanda that he’s very real and actually alive, and that he did mean every word of what he said earlier...it’s all so desperate and poetic that Tony thinks that it sounds similar to that scene from _Hamilton_ when Alexander has to apologize to his wife for getting their son killed. And for the affair. And for being absent for the majority of their marriage. Kind of a dick, that guy. She needs time.

Tony bites his lip when he has a thought—

The people who paid all that money for their tickets to the Broadway show the day of the Snap must have been highly distressed to learn that Aaron Burr had disappeared in a cloud of ash during rehearsals.

It’s a bad thought, so bad that Tony almost starts laughing, but he can’t say it because then everyone will be sure that he’s both lost it and that he’s a horrible person.

So he tells the thought to Bruce later, who does actually find it funny.

* * *

 

Television’s changed, after everything. Instead of all these carefree programs, the first few weeks of scheduling programing after the Snap is full of PSAs and advertisements for therapy. Therapy for depression, anxiety, PTSD, HTSD (Hurt by Tony Stark Disorder, obviously. Highly undiagnosed in the population, and not featured as an epidemic in nationwide broadcasting, but it is real and Tony has it and is currently seeing a therapist for it).

The symptoms are easy to spot—distancing oneself from Tony Stark, staring off in the distance when in the presence of Tony Stark, random bouts of anger toward Tony Stark, silence, sadness, resentment toward Tony Stark.

As of now, it’s not curable.

Tony’s sitting on the couch, and Peter’s beside him, and they’re watching late-night talk shows. They’re funny, and they’re not that hard to digest, and Peter seems to enjoy them, even when he’s looking a little spacey, which is increasingly often, Tony observes. And really, Tony’s game to trying anything that will make him feel less guilty for letting Peter die on a desolate planet surrounded by dirt and dust and Tony and a robotic woman.

Although Peter’s been kind enough not to draw attention to himself during these trying times, Tony still worries. And he has to, because the kid’s seventeen, and he’s not staying with his aunt right now (and Tony knows that’s ripping May apart, but she won’t say anything, as she would rather know that her nephew’s alive and somewhere else as opposed to the alternative; _those Parkers certainly know how to self-sacrifice_ , the older man thinks), so he needs a guiding hand.

Jimmy Fallon walks onto the screen, and he’s ditched his usual formal wear for a t-shirt that reads “I Survived the Snap.” The audience in the background already reacts to the sight, some with tentative laughter and most with offended gasps, and the host already looks somewhat remorseful, but Tony doesn’t care, either.

He’s already halfway dialed his way to getting Fallon off the air when he glances over.

Peter’s jaw has tightened, mouth set in such a mature way that it reminds Tony of an adult, an actual adult, and Peter shouldn’t yet know how to look that disappointed. But he does, because he didn’t survive the Snap, and the pain is daily evident in his eyes. Ah, yes. Telltale signs of HTSD. Someone needs to tell the FDA or the CDC or _whomever_ that the disorder also affects children.

Not knowing what it was like in the Soul Stone is a hard thing. But Tony doesn’t ask because he doesn’t want to know. He prefers life difficult, anyway. He can’t really handle knowing whether Peter—good Peter, who never did anything to hurt anyone and who only wanted to help so he could protect his neighborhood—was just asleep, or if he was alert, or if he just wanted to die further the whole time. Tony’s already got a million and four things to worry about right now; he doesn’t need to know that.

So he just lets out a small huff, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to get mad.”

Peter knows this, and he nods, still staring at the TV. “I wish I was.”

Add him to the list.

* * *

 

Around the time Tony decides to go back to work (a roaring month and a half after Thanos is gone—forty-seven days, accident-free), he sets Thor up with baby’s first smartphone, and the god decides to take a trip. He doesn’t say to where, and no one asks, but they have a pretty good idea.

He’s going to go and salvage the one relationship that he might have left on this planet. And she’s in New Mexico or Arizona or maybe even Antarctica, but he’s finding that doctor, and Tony suspects they’ll see more of Jane Foster in the near-future.

He’s just dreading seeing Pepper.

Tony doesn’t do much office work anymore. He doesn’t have to. Pepper runs everything, but they’ve also always been in constant communication. Now, she doesn’t answer his texts or his emails, and he won’t try calling because a guy can only take so much rejection. So Tony just shows up, in a blazer and a navy t-shirt and a tight-fitting pair of jeans (he swears that Bruce shudders at the sight), and he begins to look for a shock of blonde hair in a sea of business-casual-attired droids.

When he sees Pepper, the very first thing Tony thinks is that she looks thicker. Not fat, never fat, just…

Oh.

HTSD, and he’s feeling it now.

In all his years, and he’s had too many but not enough, Tony Stark has never been a rough man, especially with women. A little playful, yes, and definitely roguish when the bedroom situation calls for it, but never rough. And he never imagined that he could ever _roughly grab_ a pregnant woman, but he takes Pepper’s arm, anyway, leading her to an empty office that used to be inhabited by a man who lost all his estranged family in the Snap and has since had to take time off to reconnect with them.

Thanos may have thought his method was an even 50/50, but it wasn’t. A disproportionate amount of people with strong relationships to everyone else disappeared, and less people like Tony, the ones who deserved to fade into anonymity, stuck around.

To Pepper’s credit, she doesn’t hide a thing. And she stares through Tony, not even searching for something, like she always does. She’s not looking for a promise or a commitment or love or anything. She just sees him, and she’s indifferent, and that’s a pretty terrible feeling. Her skirt is a little tight, because she’s not big enough to switch to maternity wear yet, and she has no intentions of sacrificing name-brand for comfort. And Tony’s pretty sure her heels have gotten any taller because she’s practically towering over him.

He glares, anyway. “So, what, this wasn’t going to be a conversation between us?” he asks, not bothering to mask the volume of his voice. “You were just going to have my kid and invite me to the _Maury_ taping later?”

“Have I asked you for anything yet? No,” she answers, tone even. “Believe it or not, I make enough money to raise a baby on my own.”

“I know you are, because I’m the one who signs your paychecks.”

“Last I checked, I sign my own paychecks.” Pepper’s not budging an inch, and Tony wants to shake her, but he’s really not allowed to do that.

He loves her so much, and he knows that she loves him, and the universe has consistently given him a million opportunities to fix all this and to let it all go, so why won’t he? He’s weak, and he likes to fight, he likes to be an Avenger. He loves Pepper, but he also likes having a safe world for Pepper to live in. Her and her...her Morgan.

His Morgan.

Their Morgan.

“You really weren’t going to tell me,” he says, not even questioning it. “I don’t understand, you didn’t think I was going to find out?”

“I knew you would,” Pepper answers, and wow-oh-wow, is she more beautiful now, when she looks like she couldn’t care less if Tony sank into the ground and disappeared forever. “There’s not really a lot of excuses a desperate and newly-single forty-six year-old woman can get for suddenly getting a really big stomach, is there?” She’s speaking in a higher pitch now, and Tony fights the urge to rub her arm to calm her down. She does it herself, though, and sighs. “I don’t mind sharing custody, but I’m not asking you for child support. If you want to sign away your rights, I can get my hands on those papers pretty quickly—”

Somewhere in his clouded and exhausted and genius mind, Tony thinks it’s a great idea to let this conversation play out like some romantic comedy. He puts his hands on Pepper’s face and kisses her passionately, holding her close.

Except they’re not a rom-com anymore. Or maybe they never were.

Pepper doesn’t just push him away; she accidentally knees him in a place he never thought mild-mannered Pepper Potts would knee him. Tony half-doubles over, and he gives her a pleading expression. He’s a bit relieved to see that her reaction was just an instinct, and her hands fly up to cover her mouth.

“No one deserves that—” she says.

“It’s fine—”

His groin will heal, but his ego might have been bruised forever. Tony lifts himself back up, and he steadies his breathing in a trained sort of way. “Pepper, honey,” he begins, and it’s a dangerous beginning, because Pepper’s eyes have gone to fire again, “I know you’re very mad at me right now, and that’s completely understandable, but I want to be a part of his...or her...life.”

Looking at her, and praying that she gets it, just a fragment of how genuine he’s being, Tony holds his breath. Here’s Pepper, always feeling powerless and human, with all the power in Tony’s life. He’s already lost his parents and his sense of security. He’s lost his health, his reputation, his girlfriend—can’t she let him have his baby?

Pepper’s never been cruel, though, and she relents with a nod. “I’m fine with that. I’m not going to try to stop you from seeing your kid.” There’s not a promise of reconciliation between them yet, and Tony has to tell himself he’s fine with that. He’s not, obviously, but he has to pretend to be. He nods and takes a step back from her, to give her space.

“I’m so sorry, Pepper.”

The blonde’s already turned to get back to work, looking like she’s had the weight of the entire world dropped onto her narrow little shoulders. She hesitates at his words, and Tony can almost see her entire resolve buckle, but Pepper does as Pepper does, and she pulls herself together in a quick movement. “I know.”

_She’s sorry, too_ , he thinks.

* * *

 

The day that Bruce Banner is spotted actually making out with a woman—Natasha Romanoff—in the lab, Tony starts to figure that everything is going to hell.

It’s a good thing, but it’s not normal.

But still, she’s a good, smart choice, and the fact that she’s opted to wait so long for a mild-mannered scientist like Bruce apparently says a lot about the man. Tony reasons that he must be a fantastic, mind-blowing kind of lover, to be able to attract someone like the Black Widow.

Except that they haven’t had sex yet, which means that Natasha must just like him for his personality.

Tony’s got no hope for the future, if women are going to start loving men because of their personalities. He’s never had a good one.

* * *

 

The Morgan Stark from the ultrasound is not the same one that Tony meets when he’s talking to Pepper’s stomach. She’s not huge, but she’s undeniably pregnant, and her cheeks have gained a little fullness from their baby boy, and Tony doesn’t realize how gorgeous she is until he’s face-to-face with her again, as she’s lying in his bed, a hint of her stomach exposed.

He’s grateful for Pepper and Pepper’s uncanny ability to forgive. He hasn’t even destroyed the suits this time or groveled. She just comes back, and he’s in her arms in a second. He needs Pepper, and it’s so obvious, to the both of them. Tony Stark is not a strong man, but she is an unspeakably strong woman who’s strong enough for the both of them, and he loves her for it, and he just hopes that this—right now—isn’t pity. He’ll take it, though. He’ll take Pepper in any form she offers.

Once Pepper finally ditched those monstrously high heels, Tony feels worse; she looks smaller now, even if she is a rather tall woman. But she’s not scared, and he can tell. He also sees more muscle definition to the woman, and he gives her a perplexed look. “Are you doing mommy-yoga now?” he asks quietly.

“No. Pilates. I needed a stress outlet, and I decided to go for exercise rather than gain sixty pounds of baby weight from eating potato chips.”

Smiling, he nods. “Well, you would’ve looked good, anyway.”

“Save it, Tony.”

He smiles wider, tentatively running a finger across her cheek. Smooth skin, as always, but Pepper owns an entire apothecary’s worth of skin-care products. And she drinks a lot of Smart Water. The expression drops, though, when he catches a glimpse of something he’s never seen.

Uncertainty.

Pepper’s been scared and sad and mad and happy and frustrated and broken, but she’s always been certain of what she wants. She doesn’t know now, and no matter how much Tony tells her he loves her and the baby, she won’t be any more at ease. His words are a little empty now, and he knows it.

But he wonders if he could take it all back, if he would still go into that flying donut, and—yeah—he probably would. If it keeps her safe, he’d do anything, even if it keeps her away from him.

His voice is quiet, dangerously on-edge, when he asks the thing he’s been dreading this whole time. He knows it’s wrong to ask, especially if he’s not a hundred percent sure that he wants to know the answer.

“...did you survive the Snap?”

Why does he call it that? Tony wants to smack himself, and he squeezes his eyes shut, embarrassed, but a small snort from Pepper catches his attention. Looking over, he sees her lips upturned in a bitterly amused smile.

“Yeah, Tony. I was good.”

“...good. Just wondering.”

* * *

 

Seven months into the post-Snap era, and Tony hears a sound he honestly never thought he would hear.

Cap’s crying.

He expects it to be Wanda or Peter, maybe even Bruce, but not Steve. Steve’s strong and stalwart and brave and reckless. He’s sensitive, sure, but he’s not a crier. Even when Peggy died, he just blinked away some tears and moved on and stabbed Tony with his shield. But he’s crying, in the training room, at three in the morning, and Tony happens to be the one awake.

Not that he’s going to offer any comfort. The older man (younger in soul, of course) strolls past the training room, and he hovers in the doorway, eyes trained on Steve, who’s hunched over on the weight-lifting bench, arms resting against his knees as he just _sobs_. Of course he’s a pretty crier, but that’s just a given.

Luckily, Tony’s quiet, and Steve doesn’t notice.

The blond brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and if he had a pair of grandfatherly spectacles, he’d have removed them by now. But he doesn’t, just two crystal-blue eyes that apparently have flecks of green in them (god, Tony hates it when the villains get a hard-on for Rogers).

He wonders what the straw is that broke the camel’s back, but Tony’s already got an idea—probably something small, a memory of something, a smell, or just a minute of reminiscence. Those are the worst.

After the fight with Thanos, Steve shaved his beard and Natasha dyed her hair back to red. They were better that way.

Or they were, until it was obvious that Steve looked like a too-young man, clean-shaven and crying. He’s sobbing, but not loudly, just silently, his shoulders shaking as the weight of the world crashes on top of those broad shoulders. Tony frowns, and he debates with himself whether or not he should say something. They’ve had their issues, the two of them, and they’ve both said terrible things to each other, but Tony never wants to see this.

The picture of America, the hope of the country, the beacon of—he’s Captain America, and everyone loves him, and how did this happen?

When he hears footsteps, Tony hides, though he’s still able to keep an eye on the training room. He’s never been so curious as he is now (well, aside from the time he almost saw too much of King T’Challa), but maybe there’s a little bit of satisfaction there, knowing that Steve’s having his breakdown before Tony is.

Maybe that’s bravery, though, being able to be grossly vulnerable.

_Of course it’s Bucky_ , Tony thinks. Bucky walks into the room, tentatively and kindly, not even questioning anything or seeming shocked that Steve Rogers is crying by himself next to a couple of dumbbells. The brunet silently kneels in front of Steve, and obviously Tony’s unable to see Bucky’s expression, but he’s got a good idea of what it is—

Bleeding, pleading, loving (tenderly loving because no one’s ever loved another person as much as Bucky loves Steves), and hurting. Bucky’s not hurting for himself, as he’s already spent too much time wallowing in self-pity. So now he’s going to give his everything to putting Steve back together, even though the order seems fairly tall right now.

A tall Americano, so to say.

Tony smiles at the joke and looks back up.

“...Steve?” Bucky asks softly, and there’s a hint of a smile in his voice, a comforting tone. His hands reach out to take Steve’s, and the other man doesn’t shy away, somehow. He’s not pushy, but he’s probably glad that Steve doesn’t pull away.

Tony _can_ see thoughts now, but not when his only view is the back of Bucky’s head. He’s cut his hair a bit, too, since the whole Thanos-thing ended, and he looks nice. Really nice. Classic. Like a celebrity, or something. Kind of unfair, that Steve and Bucky are two of the most attractive people on this entire planet, and they really just need to be with each other so that they can’t bother anyone else with their handsomeness and can just sit and measure the length of the other’s obnoxiously long eyelashes, but Steve’s apparently got this reservation about him.

And he’s crying a lot still.

“Steve.”

The tone is firm, and the blond looks back up, blue eyes swimming with still-unshed tears. He shakes his head brokenly, then drops it. “I can’t—I can’t do this anymore, Buck, I just can’t.”  
  
It’s strange that Steve’s breaking down. He hadn’t even been sucked into the Soul Stone, hadn’t disintegrated, hadn’t been ripped from the world like he’d never even existed, but apparently he’s the one to lose it. Tony’s concerned but not because he thinks that Steve’s going to hurt himself, despite what he’s just said. He’s hurting, but not enough to physically hurt himself. Steve doesn’t want to be gone, he just wants to pause everything.

But he can’t, so he just folds into Bucky’s embrace.

Bucky holds him close, shushing all of Steve’s self-loathing comments. He lets his fingers card through the other man’s hair just once, then forces Steve to look up. Tony doesn’t hear what he says, but he’s sure it’s something sugary-sweet like, “You’re not doing this alone, _pal_ (or _buddy_ or _Stevie_ ).” Steve shakes his head again, but Bucky’s hold is firm.

He’s about the only person who can actually keep Steve grounded, and one of the only people who can almost overpower him. If Tony didn’t dislike Bucky sometimes, he would almost admire him.

At least he’s brave, Tony realizes, when Bucky leans forward and does something that he wasn’t allowed to do in the 40s. It’s impossibly brave, actually, because Steve Rogers can have anyone he wants, but he’s always wanted Bucky and has overthrown heaven and New York (which is basically hell, sometimes) to get him back, and Tony finds it more brave that Bucky’s willing to reciprocate that kind of love. And it’s definitely terrifying to love someone who loves you back so impossibly much.

Tony gets that, and either Bucky gets it and is fine with it or doesn’t know at all, but he kisses Steve, anyway. So gently, like Bucky always is, and Tony can tell exactly what’s going through the man’s mind:

_He’sbeautifulIlovehimIcan’tlosehimorlovehimmorethanIdonow—_

Steve doesn’t even look surprised by the action, and there’s something still very broken about his expression, but he lets Bucky hold his face in his hands anyway, lets himself be kissed again, and he accepts both the metal and the flesh, the Bucky that he’s always known and the one he’s had to meet and re-learn, and his forehead falls against the other man’s shoulder.

It’s quiet uptown.

* * *

 

Morgan enters the world surprisingly modestly considering that he’s a Stark. Pepper enters the hospital at eight in the morning and has a fresh new baby in her arms an hour and a half later.

Business hours.

Tony holds his son, and there’s absolutely no way that anyone could mistake who his father is. Already, Morgan’s got dark hair, and he looks particularly angry for no good reason. Classic Tony.

They never actually discuss the name “Morgan,” not once since that time right before a donut dropped from the sky, yet Pepper unquestionably tells the nurse to write it down. She’s _this_ close to saying “Potts,” but one look at Tony, and she graciously gives Morgan his last name. It’s the greatest favor she could give a pathetic old man, and Tony almost starts crying from how much he loves her.

Morgan Stark. He’s officially obsessed.

Rhodey squeezes Tony’s shoulders. “Look at you, Dad,” he says encouragingly, and Tony smiles, still dazed.

That Pepper’s just had a baby and looks this good and has had the thought to re-apply her makeup before anyone comes in with cameras is astounding. She’s a mom now, sure, but she’s not going to sacrifice the control she likes to have over every aspect of her life for her baby.

That Rhodey’s actually here to congratulate him, when Tony was almost certain he had lost him in Germany.

“Yeah, look at me.”

Bruce is happy for him, despite the fact that Tony’s just been given a thing he’ll never get, but Tony can’t feel guilt for that. Well, he can. And he probably should.

But his baby’s really cute, so he doesn’t feel anything more than joy.

Happy cries just as much as Morgan does, only he’s louder about it, and Pepper rolls her eyes, drumming her fingers against her bed. She’s a “hospital-birth” kind of gal, but only because she didn’t want to have to deal with modifying a room for one day. Pepper’s not the kind of person who likes to decorate often.

Later, Pepper’s napping, and Tony’s letting his gaze occasionally flick up from his laptop. His gaze settles on Pepper, then swivels over to the clinical-looking bassinet where Morgan’s also sleeping. He likes this kind of quiet; it’s not deafening, like it usually is. It’s just comfortable, and Tony finally knows what it’s like to exist in a comfortable silence. He doesn’t even have a million thoughts running through his head; he’s just kind of peaceful.

Weird. Probably won’t last.

Tony’s typing furiously, working on his letter of recommendation for Peter. Apparently HTSD doesn’t keep the kid from wanting a good foothold into a nice college. He’s not even aware of his disorder yet, but it’ll come, in the dead of night when he’s thinking of nothing else except how hard it is to breathe in a suffocating bedroom.

He wants to go to Culver. It’s a smart choice, even though Tony prefers MIT or something else. Or something closer to New York City. But Tony gets it, too. Sometimes people just need to get away from things, and Peter needs to get out of New York. He’s got great memories here, but he’s also got very bad ones, and he’s not going to suddenly stop being Spider-Man because he’s a few hours away. Tony trusts Peter to balance everything, and if he can give him extra peace of mind, Tony’s supportive.

And with Peter’s intelligence and academic record, his financial and family situation, and the fact that he’s actually Spider-Man going into schools with recommendation letters from Iron Man (and Dr. Bruce Banner—people still have their reservations about him, mainly because he’s known to...smash things...but he’s still a professional), he’s bound to get a full-ride to whichever school he chooses. And if he doesn’t, Tony’s paying for his entire undergrad. And grad school. And the doctorate.

Is he trying to ease his conscience somewhat, by loving both Morgan and Pepper and doing everything he can to get Peter into a good school?

Yeah, definitely.

Is it helping?

A little bit.

* * *

 

Peter gets into Culver.

And Cornell.

And MIT.

And NYU.

Heck, he even gets into Yale.

He picks Culver.

* * *

 

Since they’re basically celebrities and have been for a while, they get invited to things. Tom Ford invites Tony to the Met Gala, and he brings Pepper, and the two get about a hundred questions about their new baby and if there are wedding bells in the future.

The bells have rang and rang and rang for years, and the belfry’s open, but neither seem to know what to do with all that. He’s grateful for Pepper’s calm, though, because she handles all the questions like a pro. Pepper slaps on a smile, and she lets Tony snake an arm around her waist like it’s nothing, like they don’t still have years of tension and dishonesty and trust issues between them and in front of them and behind them, too. They’ve got a lot of issues, honestly, and Tony’s not sure if they’ll ever be past them.

Maybe they’ll just be one of those celebrity couples who happen to have a kid between them.

Steve, of course, gets invited to baseball games, and he and Bucky are always good enough to attend, and there always seems to be a Kiss Cam focused on them, the Jumbotron trying to capture every bit of their groundbreaking relationship. Interesting. Ironic.

Iconic.

And when the Nobel Banquet rolls around, the team has still heard little from Thor. Maybe he never actually learned how a smartphone works and was simply too prideful to ask for assistance, lost in a Midgardian jungle that doesn’t exist somewhere between Antarctica and Brazil. Maybe he doesn’t want to be near the Avengers anymore, and no one would blame him for that. And maybe he’s gone and done the worst and hurt himself, and Tony wouldn’t blame him for that, either.

Thor’s had a hard, long life, and yet he still seems young, for Asgardian standards.

But then the Nobel Banquet, as stated previously, rolls around, and Jane Foster’s there for making another breakthrough, and there’s a familiarly giant man beside her, who looks down at her like she’s the one who invented and discovered and named every single star in the sky that he loves so much. It’s the first indication anyone’s received about Thor, the first sign that he’s going to be alright, and he doesn’t even call after that, even though he’s probably (namely, probably) aware that the whole team now knows where he is and who he’s sleeping with.

He needs time, though. No one can fault him for time.

* * *

 

Time passes, though, and by the time Tony blinks and sees Morgan—actually sees him—for the first time in weeks, he sees how much time has passed. Morgan’s not a newborn, and he’s got some months behind him, and Tony’s got some months (a year?) behind the Snap, and he’s been in a fog this whole time, watching everyone else’s lives move on around him, and the only way that he’s been effecting his own changes is because his sperm count was high enough to get Pepper pregnant and she decided to let him into her world once more.

They sleep together all the nights, but they only sleep _together_ sometimes, when he’s feeling a little lonely and she’s not feeling anything. Pepper might not love him anymore, and the thought can’t scare Tony like it used to. He knows he doesn’t deserve to be loved by her, and he knows that she knows it, too.

But she also knows what he lost out with his dad, and she won’t do it to him and Morgan. Pepper’s fantastic and beautiful.

Morgan’s a beautiful baby, too, and Tony feels his heart constrict. He loves his son. He loves his team. (He doesn’t love Steve, but he’s glad that Bucky loves him). He loves Rhodey and Peter and Bruce and even Thor, and he needs them all to be okay again, and they all seem to be healing, so why isn’t he? Why hasn’t he broken down and fallen apart and had a Bucky to pull him back together and make him whole? Where’s his Bucky or his Jane or his Tony, even?

Doesn’t he deserve to be better?

Tony doesn’t think so, but he tries, anyway. He has a nice dinner, with Pepper and Morgan, and he watches as Pepper tries to spoon in a few bites of whatever orange mush he’s supposed to be eating, and Morgan just _smooshes_ his face up in defiance like the Stark that he is. That he’s brave and stupid enough to deny Pepper Potts of anything is evidence that he’s Tony’s kid.

Is he allowed to think his own kid’s stupid?

Yeah, probably not.

Yet.

“I know you want to talk about something,” Pepper says without looking up, and she smiles when Morgan does. She can tell that Tony’s eyes are on her, and it’s like she’s making herself all the more tempting just to torture him. “So what’re you buying now? Summer home? Winter home? Are you becoming a snowbird?”

Snorting, Tony shakes his head. “Not that old yet, honey.” The weight in his pocket is agonizing, but it’s grounding, too. The man clears his throat, and Pepper looks up this time. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to get married.”

He says it quickly, proverbially ripping off that Hello Kitty band-aid, and Pepper’s response is just as quick.

“Sure.”

Morgan manages to flip the spoon out of his mother’s hand, and Tony grins, genuinely amused and not in the morbid way.

He’s in love.

* * *

 

The nightmares come, with frequency and without warning and sometimes with warning, and Tony always wakes up in a cold sweat. He’s got Pepper to his left, though, who holds him close, her body toned and soft and comforting and _warm_ , and he wishes there were more that he could do for her. He loves her, and he shakes sometimes with the reality of it all. He’s been through too much, but he’s caused a lot of pain, too, and that’s how that is.

She needs him as much as he does, though, and he recognizes it and accepts it the one night that Pepper cries herself awake, only she’s conditioned herself to be strong on her own, so she just brings her knees up to her chest like Tony’s not watching her and feeling his heart melt into lava and crumble into ash at the sight of it all.

He doesn’t touch her, not until she lets him, when she curls back against him and pulls his arm to cover her. He’s never known that he’s a person that she wants to protect her, but she does.

Tony strengthens his grip, and he feels Pepper squeeze back, their silent acknowledgment of the things they’ve never said to each other. That they’re both sorry (she has nothing _nothing_ to be sorry for), that she’s forgiven him, that they might actually be able to make this work, the two of them and Morgan, and everything might actually be okay for them. He imagines it all, gone with a snap, too, except for him, and he snaps awake, breathing too quick and Pepper too far away. The other side of the bed is too far away now.

Snap. Terrible word, now.

With a sigh, he realizes that he’s not going to have this magical breakdown that lets him recover with ease. Steve got one, and he knows that Peter did (because now Tony knows that Peter felt everything about disintegrating, when no one else had any memory of pain), and he knows that Wanda absolutely shattered when she was finally in Vision’s arms, and Bruce had even broken down when he was alone with Natasha, and he was probably that guy who stumbled through a thousand apologies to the woman who had never been mad at him. Thor probably had his own meltdown, too, and why wouldn’t he—he literally lost everything.

But Tony’s not getting one.

_Fine_ , he thinks. He can live with that. He’s got Pepper and a kid and a company and a lot of money and therapy, so he can probably manage this survivor’s guilt for the rest of his life. He deserves a little bit of it, and then he doesn’t, but life’s never been fair to Tony, and he’s never been fair to it.

Maybe he almost understands what Thanos was getting at. Randomness—it’s not fair, but it’s effective, and it’s life. But the thing is, that no one should get to choose which half of the world has to live in Sucksville and which half gets gravy (god, he’s _tired_ ). Tony doesn’t get to choose to suddenly be saved from all this pain, but he also doesn’t get to choose to make Pepper deal with it, either. He’s unlucky enough to hurt but lucky enough to have someone who wants to love him through that hurt.

The nightmares come, and the nightmares go, and Tony has to lay himself to sleep every night in spite of it all.

Zero days without injury.

But he survived the Snap of 2018.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on this thing for a while, and I've never written a one-shot with so many different characters/storylines, so forgive me if it's awful. I saw some people referring to Thanos' attack as "The Snap," so that's what I'm calling it here, and I haven't read any other fics like this one, so if it's completely similar to another one, it's completely coincidental. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


End file.
